


Blinded by Your Grace

by tigersbride



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s13e07 War of the Worlds, Prisoner Castiel, Resurrected Dean Winchester, Temporary Amnesia, angel!dean, it gets happier after the first chapter i promise, ok maybe after the second one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigersbride/pseuds/tigersbride
Summary: It is daytime. That is all he knows for certain.But right now, there are noises. It’s not a struggle, it’s more of a clattering. There’s a scolding to accompany it, and then the clanging of a metal door. It’s more noise than he’s heard since his arrival, and despite himself, his heart jumps, because maybe they’ve come for him, after all. Maybe there’s an end to this nightmare.He should know by now how dangerous hope can be._________In which Dean comes to Castiel's rescue, but it doesn't quite go to plan. When Cas and Jack manage to bring Dean back, things aren't quite the same, and won't be again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't stop writing codas. What is with this season!! And I've not watched 13x08 yet, and I'm supposed to be packing for a vacation rn not writing. Anyway, expect something like 4-5 chapters on this one!

All he could think about, was how much he’d fucked up. _Again._  

Although it was hell, even as an angel he could tell it was cold. It wasn’t something he struggled with usually, temperature was barely ever a concern of his, considering he didn’t sweat and gooseflesh was foreign to him. Not that it was concerning him, now. It was just something that he’d noticed from within the confines of the damp, dark cell he’d been imprisoned in for… how long had it been now? Maybe days, maybe weeks? Time keeping again wasn’t his strongpoint, given that he was millennia old. 

So he sits, in the corner of the cell with his head on his knees, wondering once again why he was such a failure. 

The worst part is that he’d only just come back. He’d been alive for mere days before insisting, stupidly, to once again go off alone and try and solve yet another problem he’d created. He was so goddamn useless, and he’d needed a fucking win for once. He’d _needed_ a win, to prove to himself, as well as to the Winchester brothers, that he wasn’t quite as useless as he seemed. But he’d failed, and here he was, trapped, being made to listen to impersonations of his own voice tricking the people he loved into thinking he was avoiding them like a plague. 

 _Dean_. 

His heart throbs pathetically at even the name. He’s in two minds about it, of course. He can’t bear the thought of Dean putting himself in danger, or getting hurt, perhaps even getting Sam hurt, too. But oh, what he’d give to see that face again. What he’d do to be able to have those arms wrap around him once again, like they had in that alleyway when he’d come back from The Empty. What he’d give to feel those lips smile against his neck again. To feel the hot breath of relief on his skin. 

He wants. He wants so badly. More now than ever before because now it’s so abundantly clear that their time together is limited. Castiel doesn’t think he’ll be afforded a second chance at rebirth. A large part of him pushes, begging with his good sense to just _tell_ him the damn truth if they ever get a chance, but the larger, cowardly part knows that even if he gets lucky enough to see him again, he’ll never admit it. The boobs and booze loving hunter would never feel that way about him, too, and even though he can sense it, even from this distance, his hunter’s desperate longing, he knows well enough by now that it is for the safe return of a best friend, not a lover. 

He knows. From the bottom of his heart, he knows that sooner or later, Asmodeus will slip up, will say something that will peak the brother’s interest, that they will figure it out and come after him. Lucifer himself hadn’t found a way out of this mess, so Castiel knows he needs their help if he’s got any chance of getting out of this one. He hates the thought of them having to save him again. He hates that even though he doesn’t deserve it, they would still try to save him. 

Days pass. He even manages to sleep, sometimes. There really is very little to do down here other than try and ignore Lucifer’s ramblings and his pleas. So he allows himself to indulge, until he starts dreaming of Dean and arms wrapped around him, and he forces himself awake rather than live through the torture. 

It might be a week before anything changes. 

There is a slither of daylight from a window, the corner of which he can just see if he stands right at the far edge of his cell and presses himself up against the bars. The only other light is that of candles that burn eternally, probably lit with holy oil to keep him trapped, he doesn’t really know, but he can sense his inability to leave even if his wings weren’t clipped. 

It is daytime. That is all he knows for certain. 

But right now, there are noises. It’s not a struggle, it’s more of a clattering. There’s a scolding to accompany it, and then the clanging of a metal door. It’s more noise than he’s heard since his arrival, and despite himself, his heart jumps, because maybe they’ve come for him, after all. Maybe there’s an end to this nightmare. 

He should know by now how dangerous hope can be. 

Castiel grimaces at first, as Asmodeus drags the hunter by the arm and makes him stand with some unseen force. But his expression twists, contorting with pain and sorrow and anger as Dean meets his eyes, as Cas spots relief within those that look back at him. The hunter has been stupid enough to get himself captured, to get himself hurt, and all just for him. He isn’t worthy. 

A quirk of lips have Castiel’s chest heaving, his stomach threatening to empty itself of the nothing inside it. He feels physically sick, that Dean would smile at him even after this, and internally he’s screaming out in distaste. Asmodeus is grinning at the hunter’s side, his broad smile one of victory and pride, and Castiel wants nothing more than to bury his fist between the demon’s teeth.  He takes the steps further towards the bars as if in threat, but they are stood far enough back that they cannot be touched. 

“It’s _cute._ ” Asmodeus spits the word and Cas strains his jaw. “Your little pet, trying to rescue you.” 

Cas can’t think of a retort, can’t think of a way to defend Dean or to save him. He’s trying to smite the demon, really, he is, but heaven’s reach doesn’t extend to hell any more, so his effort is futile, and he knows that already. Asmodeus just watches him, grinning from ear to ear, cocky and wicked at the same time. He turns, and clenches his hand, watching with delight as Dean clutches at his throat, at the invisible force constricting and strangulating him. Castiel is screaming, begging for Asmodeus to stop, and with a devilish glance, he does. 

While Dean claws at his neck and drags air into painful lungs, Cas pleads. He begs for mercy, begs to be sacrificed instead, offers up his grace, offers up anything he can if the demon would just spare the Winchester. 

But Asmodeus is not interested in trading. 

With a wave of hands, Dean is suddenly lifted into the air. The hunter lets out a scream, red blood pooling in his palms as his hands are dragged out either side of him, his body hanging limply between them. Castiel starts as he sees the resemblance to a crucifixion, and he wonders if this is Asmodeus’s intention, to prove he is all-powerful and godlike. Cas still tries to beg. Maybe he can persuade the prince of hell to let the hunter go, if he just thinks of the right thing to say. 

“To show you how much point there is in trying, Castiel.” Asmodeus begins. “I’ll make an example of him.” 

He takes a blade from within his pristine white jacket, and with a poisonous smile, he turns, and plunges it through the hunter’s stomach. 

The screams that pierce the dungeon are from two pairs of lips, and while Dean slumps with the pain, blood trickling from the gash in his abdomen, Castiel pleads, begging him to wake up, begging him to get over this and to heal. He’s not even registered that Asmodeus has left. All he can focus on his Dean’s hurt. Is the intensity of his need and his longing. Cas stretches out his hands as far as the bars will allow, but he is mere inches away from being able to touch. It feels like miles, and his grace hovers within his fingers, eager to heal but entirely unable. 

He watches, unable to do anything but watch, for the next ten minutes, until Dean slowly lifts his head. The hunter is sweating, pale, and the circles under his eyes are dark both with tiredness and hypovolaemia. Dean is slowly exsanguinating before his eyes. 

“Cas.” The hunter breathes, and the angel wishes he would preserve his energy. He’s been thinking, desperately wondering where the other brother is, whether there is a chance they can get out of this one. He’s only just got Dean back, he can’t lose him now. He can’t. 

“Shh.” Cas soothes, holding out a hand that Dean can’t take in hopes the hunter will understand. “Don’t try and talk.” 

“No.” Dean chokes, and he coughs. With it, blood pools on his bottom lip and drips down his chin, and Castiel knows that he’s bleeding internally as well as out. “I need to. I need you to know.” 

“You can tell me when we get back to the bunker, Dean.” Cas tries. “When we get home.” 

“No.” The hunter says again, more insistent, more exasperated. “We both know I ain’t getting out of this one, Cas.” 

“You are.” Castiel insists, but they both know he’s wrong. 

“Shut up, will you?” Dean says, and his voice catches where he’s obviously in pain. “I need you to know.” 

“Know what?” Cas gives in, but Dean is fading and they can both see it. 

“How I feel, Cas. ‘Bout you. I already missed my _last_ last chance. I won’t miss this one too. It’s not… You’re not my brother, Cas. It’s different to that. And… you said it.” Dean spits out, with more blood trickling on his skin. “After Ramiel. You were dying and you said it. I’m dying, so I’m saying it. It’s you, Cas. Since we met. All these years. It’s been you.” Dean breathes, and its obvious he’s losing his nerve as well as his life. “I love you.” 

“You’re not going to die.” Castiel says, desperately trying to make it true, but they both know it’s a lie. His heart aches to realise the truth, to know that he’s been wanted in the same way he wants. To realise that he could have had so much more if he’d just taken the leap. To know that he will never get it, now. 

“I am, Cas, but that’s ok.” 

Castiel shakes his head, wishes there was anything he could say to make that different, to stop it from being the bitter and honest truth of the matter, but in reality he can’t. He’s powerless, and Sam’s not here. No one who could possibly help is anywhere to be found. He’s watching the love of his life die, a slow, painful death, and he can’t even touch him. 

“I love you too.” Castiel whispers some time later, and it’s one of the last things Dean does before he dies. He smiles. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away on Thursday so I'm blitzing out the remainder of this story and my aim is to have it all published by tomorrow. It's not going to be particularly long, and I'm not gunna wait around for betas so it will be self-edited and possibly terribly grammatically incorrect but hey, at least you won't be hanging around!

He’d been watching for what felt like days, but judging by the fact that the daylight was still the same, it might only have been an hour. 

In front of him, just out of reach, Dean was going cold. His skin was turning white anywhere it wasn’t stained with his own blood, and his muscles were already limp and lax, would soon start to firm up where rigor mortis would set in. Castiel has sobbed more than he thought possible, grieving a love he never embraced, a best friend he should have listened to, a _partner_ he owed more than this. 

His heart is as cold as Dean’s skin, and his mind is so clouded that he barely registers the bang or the crash of light that flashes through the dungeon. 

At least until the bars he’s leaning on evaporate, and he throws a foot out in front to steady himself before he falls flat on his face. He stumbles blindly forward, not caring what or who has released him, but relieved that he can finally reach his lost love. His hands find Dean’s shoulder, and the body slumps against him as the bonds holding him up disappear by his touch. He breaths in the smell of him, of Dean, of whiskey and gunpowder, must and cheap cologne, knowing it’s for the last time. He tries desperately to heal him even though he knows there is no use. His grace prods uselessly at shut down nerves and it can do no more for him than he can. His face buries into a lifeless neck and he kisses the skin for the first, and last time. 

He crumples to his knees, landing with a sob, letting the weight of the hunter drop into his lap. 

“We have to go, _now_.” A familiar voice says from his side, but he doesn’t care for his own safety any more, not now that he’s failed even his original mission, and let down his charge. Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, no longer saved. 

And it had been him that had killed the reaper, so he knew that there was no coming back now for any of them. No deals, no fixes. He briefly remembered Sam mentioning Billie, as if they’d discovered something new while he’d been away, while he’d been dead himself. But they hadn’t had the conversation before he’d run out on them again, chasing a boy he swore to protect. Someone else he’d let down as equally as the man who he held now, with a still heart. 

“Father, please.” The word peaks his interest, and although his head stays flat against Dean’s shoulder, he turns, and looks straight into the nephilim’s eyes. Jack is watching him with concern and confusion, and it’s only then that Castiel focuses on the rest of the world around him. All hell has, quite literally, broken loose. He sees through the door to find flames scorching the place, the souls of a thousand angry demons bouncing through the grand hall and occupying their prince and his accomplices, long enough that they can escape. 

Castiel nods, still clinging to Dean’s body, and he offers Jack his hand. 

It’s become a foreign sensation, flying. It’s been so long now since his wings have been clipped that he’d forgotten what it was like, and along with the pang of envy he feels for his lack of ability, he now feels nauseous, too. 

They all land with a thud within the war room. He falls to his knees and while he clutches at Dean’s corpse in his lap, Sam’s expression is one of horror. He’s running towards them before Cas can explain or apologise, and how in hell he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for this one… well, he won’t ever be able to.

He’s not sure what happens then, but Sam doesn’t reach them. Instead, Jack kneels down in front of them, and Cas is only vaguely aware that he’s still fruitlessly trying to heal his lost love when his grace sparks in his hands. His breath catches, because he doesn’t understand, but Jack’s fingers are on Dean’s temple and his eyes are golden, surging with a bright power that Castiel can’t comprehend. But he can feel it, he can sense its strength and he’s grateful for its persistence. 

A fresh tear rolls down his cheek, then, because his grace finds something to hold onto, its tendrils latching to an awakening nerve and trying desperately to pulse it back to life. 

When Castiel feels Dean’s heart beat, he sobs, and his grace helps it to keep beating.

“Stay with him.” Jack orders a little while later, when they’ve kept Dean alive long enough to move him into his bedroom. It seems the nephilim has learnt a few things in his time MIA. And somehow, for a 6 month old, he’s more mature than even Dean was. “He still needs help to heal.” 

So Cas does as he’s told, lying happily in the bed next to the man he’s being given a third chance with, a chance he definitely doesn’t deserve, but is beyond grateful to receive. He keeps his hand on Dean’s cheek, grace soothing his mind and his body as it pieces itself back together. He stays, holding his love, trying to plan out exactly what he’ll say when Dean wakes up, exactly where to kiss him first, exactly how to explain how long he’s felt this way. 

He stays, until Dean’s body doesn’t need him any longer, and the hunter is simply asleep. 

Now, he goes out to the war room, where Sam and Jack are sat with bated breath, both with heads in their hands looking thoroughly exhausted and outright worried. Cas smiles as he approaches, and when they hear him coming and look up to match his gaze they smile too, a final relief washing through them both simultaneously. 

“He’s alright?” Sam asks softly, and Castiel nods. 

“He’s asleep, but somehow he’s alive.” Cas explains, breathing out slowly in total disbelief. The shock of that is unreal, and the relief that accompanies it is overwhelming. He turns his gaze to Jack, and the nephilim stares at him with the smallest of smiles on his lips. “Thank you for saving him.” 

“I wasn’t sure it would work.” Jack admits, but he shrugs his shoulders in half a lift, a sigh escaping with his breath. Cas thinks the half-angel should have had more faith in his abilities, because it had been this boy who had brought him back from the brink. 

“Thank you for coming back.” He smiles, trying to convey his deep gratitude.

“Thank Sam, he’s the one who found me.” Jack says, and Sam looks suddenly embarrassed. “But he’s showed me that I _can_ do good in this world, if I work hard and train myself right. He was right, and I know now that no one can do this alone.” 

“You’re a good kid.” Sam looks proud, and Jack shoots him a smile before Sam looks back up to the angel. “I can tell you the details another time, but we have other news. We have Lucifer in the dungeon, and we have Ketch too… it was Rowena’s doing, but he’s still alive.” 

“I have a lot to catch up on.” Castiel decides, sighing as he takes a seat, tiredness finally catching up with him. Healing was hard work. “I’m exhausted.” 

“We’re planning to take out Asmodeus. It’s a long story, but it turns out Ketch was his inside man. We’re going to use him…” Sam trails off as Castiel yawns, and instead, he shakes his head. “Get some rest.” He smiles, standing. “I’ll watch over Dean in case he wakes up. I wouldn’t want him to be alone.” 

“No.” Castiel says, but he’s agreeing, not denying Sam time with his brother. “Thank you, Sam.” 

And some time later, Castiel is lying on his guest bed, trying to shut his mind off where he’s so damned tired, but even though he knows, even though he felt Dean’s heart beat again with his own grace, he craves the feel of it, feels starved of its touch. His conscious mind is so fragile that it could be playing tricks, he could still be in that dark cell, this could still be a dream. He pinches himself, and it proves to him that this is real. That or a djinn has got him, but even so, it’s a better way to go than an eternity trapped in that prison. 

 

*

 

He did rest, eventually. He probably got a few hours of peace before he was disturbed again. And yet disturbed he was. 

His eyes flash open at the feel of it, the steady shudder, the rattling noise. It takes him a while to realise that it’s coming from the walls, that it is in fact the entire bunker that is shaking beneath the feet he climbed onto. His breath catches in his throat as he begins to panic, and he tears without warning down the corridor, wishing he didn’t notice how much the shaking was intensifying as he neared the hunter’s bedroom, as if it was the epicentre.

He wrenches open the door to Dean’s room without so much as knocking, and Sam’s eyes are wide and scared as they turn to look back at him. He looks past the tall man though, gaze settling on his brother. Dean has backed himself into a corner, his head hanging low, hands up in front of his face in protection or defence. He’s still just wearing the black t-shirt and black sweatpants they’d changed him into. 

And somehow, it is the epicentre. The shaking is coming from Dean. 

Castiel’s heart drops with fear and confusion, Sam positively terrified at his side as he takes a step closer to the man he loves, hands held out in surrender and trust. 

“You’re ok.” Castiel hears himself whispering, but he’s not sure that it’s the truth, and maybe it’s the waver in his voice or maybe its the words themselves but the shaking intensifies and he’s panicking even more now. “Dean, it’s just us, you’re ok. You’re safe” 

The hunter lifts his head from his hands but he doesn’t meet his eyes, not yet. Castiel wonders if he’s getting through to him, so he tries again. 

“It’s me, Dean. It’s me and Sam. We’re all safe.” 

And now Dean looks up, but the eyes that Castiel sees don’t belong to his love. They’re not green, but a bright blue. Castiel swallows as he realises just what’s happening, and his stomach turns in fear when Dean speaks in a terrified, panicked voice. 

“Where am I, and who are you?” 


	3. Chapter 3

The blow of the words was almost as bad as the realisation of what he’d done. Castiel starts to panic, big time, as he takes another step closer and the bright blue of Dean’s eyes flare in threat. His hands stay out in surrender, but he won’t dare edge closer without permission. 

“I’m your friend.” He tries to explain. “I’m Castiel.” 

Dean’s narrow eyes spark with a little curiosity at that, and Cas prays it means that there is a part of him that remembers, that perhaps with work they can find Dean in there again. Cas doesn’t understand it, but Dean suddenly jolts out a hand, just touching the tip of Castiel’s finger and making his grace pulse through his body. Cas gasps at the sensation, careful not to withdraw in case Dean bolts. He can see his fear, so strong he can almost taste it. 

The hunter bores into his eyes in a way that Castiel can’t even match. Perhaps once upon a time he would have done, but having spent so much time on earth it makes him feel uncomfortable, and his window to Dean’s inner thoughts closes when he has to look away. So Dean turns his gaze to his brother, who stares at him with nothing but panic in his expression. 

“And him?” Dean asks suspiciously, but his accent is plainer, his voice clearer. There is none of the mumble or slang that Castiel has come to associate with the hunter, none of the personality. Was this what he was like when he first walked the earth? 

“He’s your brother. Sam.” Cas explains, and his voice draws Dean’s eyes back to him. He’s not sure exactly how, yet, but he’s earned his trust, he knows. Maybe he can sense it within his grace, that he’s telling the truth.

As if in understanding that the two men before him were no threat, the shaking of the walls slowly stops, allowing a light cloud of dust to drift slowly to the ground at their feet. Their fingers are still just touching, and Castiel takes a breath, keeping his eye contact with Dean as he takes another gentle step towards him, terrified that he will run. He can sense the pulse of fear in Dean’s veins, knows that he’s scared and confused. 

Anyone would be, if they woke up an angel.

Castiel swallows again when Dean doesn’t bolt, instead eyeing him with every attention, every sole focus. Cas knows if he puts a foot wrong he could destroy this forever, could lose Dean forever. He can see the wings spread black behind his back, heavy feathers that will carry him away at his will, the fresh grace in his heart that lies dormant but ready to smite them at a moment’s notice. Not that it would have much effect on Cas, but Sam is another matter. 

The new angel’s eyes flare once when Cas takes that final, hesitant step, but he holds his hands up and edges them gently to Dean’s cheeks. Dean allows him to touch, their weak trust built on only these last few minutes, ready to burst if he toes out of line. 

Cas touches, and he feels. He feels the beating of Dean’s heart, the stillness of his lungs. He feels his mind, the completely overwhelmed sensations locking back memories deep inside. They’re locked but they exist, and that’s reassuring because one day they can be unlocked. He hears the voices, thousands of them, prayers and _angel radio,_ as Dean once said, and he feels the untrained, raw power that threatens to destroy them all if untamed. 

Lastly, he feels the grace, and his heart skips. It’s not just any grace. It’s _his_ grace. It’s Castiel’s grace. Cas feels the recognition and he knows Dean feels it too. And suddenly, it starts to make sense. Jack didn’t bring Dean back to life. He used Castiel’s offered grace and created a new angel. Duma had told him it could happen, that they needed Jack for this purpose. He hadn’t thought any more of it, and now here he is, stood in front of the first new angel in centuries, who just so happens to be the love of his fucking life to boot.  

Against his touch, Dean seems to relax. There’s a warm pulse within him and its almost like he remembers Castiel’s feel, because he keens to it, pushing his cheeks further against the hands. When Castiel opens his eyes again, and Dean does too, he can no longer see the bright blue of raw angelic power, and although the green he loves is now speckled with blue, this is more Dean than he’s seen since his death. 

Behind them, Sam lets escape a shaky breath, and Dean tenses at the reminder that he and Cas are not alone. Castiel puts his free hand on Dean’s shoulder in support, turning back to the younger Winchester with an apologetic gaze. He’s about to speak, about to starting trying to explain, but Dean takes his face in his hands and bores into his eyes again. 

“I know _you_.” He says, emphasising as if to point out that he is entirely unfamiliar with his brother. Castiel is about to point out that he knows Sam too, but Sam beats him to the mark. 

“You know _me_ too.” Sam chimes in. “You’re my brother. I wouldn’t hurt you.” 

Castiel flinches because he can tell that abruptness is the wrong move, but Dean’s eyes have flared again before he can explain that. He stares up into them, but the new angel’s attentions have shifted to Sam, and his eyes start to narrow as the walls shudder once again. 

“I know _him._ ” Dean says, and it’s a threat this time, telling Sam to back off and leave them alone. 

“Dean, what’s going on with you?” Sam asks, and its obvious to Cas that he’s sick with worry. The human can’t see the wings, has no idea what is going on. Their luck only starts to get worse though, because at that, the door swings open, and Jack stares at them from the doorframe with confusion and worry in his eyes. 

At the sight of the nephilim, whose eyes glow golden without his control, Dean panics, and Cas can see it. Cas is about to speak, about to try and salvage the situation and calm Dean down again, but the new angel has a mind of his own, and wings that will take them anywhere he chooses. 

At least, in theory. 

Castiel drops to the ground with a crash, hitting the grassy bank with some speed and scuffing his shirt and his face in the process. Dean had never flown himself before, and clearly hadn’t ever practiced his landing technique. He falls in a heap a few feet from Castiel’s side, and after rubbing his face free of dirt with his sleeve, Cas hurries over to him. 

He reaches Dean just as the new angel is hauling his weight onto his ass, rubbing at his arm with a frown on his lips. His eyes brighten as he catches sight of Cas, and his arms open out to him. Castiel is surprised, but he allows the embrace as he lets Dean’s head fall against his chest. The ground around them still shakes a little with Dean’s distress, but as he holds him there it slowly settles to a stop. 

“I know you.” Dean repeats after some time passes, a whisper against Castiel’s skin. “I _know_ you.” 

“You do.” Cas says quietly in reassurance, and a few moments later Dean lifts his head, eyes meeting Castiel’s once again. 

“Who am _I_?” Dean asks, and Castiel’s expression softens, a sad smile as he strokes his fingers down Dean’s cheeks. 

“You’re Dean Winchester.” He whispers. “And you don’t remember anything because you’ve just become an angel.” 

“An angel?” 

“Yes, like me.” 

And Dean just nods as if this is perfectly clear to him. 

“There are so many voices.” He complains, rubbing at his temple as he sits himself upright, looking every bit sorry for himself.

“You will learn to tune them out.” Castiel answers. 

“I know you, but who are you?” Dean questions, and Cas has to swallow back the hurt. 

“I’m your friend. I’m Castiel.” 

Again Dean nods, like it makes perfect sense. Like denying that there was any more to it isn’t destroying Castiel inside. He furrows his brow like he can sense Castiel’s pain, but he doesn’t know how to process it or how to ask, so he keeps his mouth closed, and Cas is grateful for that. The ground shakes again, once, just a small tremor, but Dean winces. 

“I am unable to control that.” He explains, his voice so devoid of the personality that made Dean _Dean_. Castiel realises that this was what he was like when he first came to earth, before he started to feel. He hopes beyond measure that he can get Dean to feel again. That he can bring back those emotions he needed so desperately to explore. 

“I’ll help you to control it all, your power.” Cas whispers, and now Dean nods, the hint of a smile in his eyes. It’s the most he’ll get for now, and he’ll take it. 


	4. Chapter 4

As neither angel needs to sleep, they spend the next forty-eight hours solidly on Dean’s training. They had walked to the edge of the forest they found themselves in, sought out an old forgotten cabin that they use as shelter. Castiel helps him to work on his focus, on tuning out the thousands of voices that they can hear each second, on controlling the flare ups of his power, if not his actual ability. They talk at length, and Castiel gives him tips for flight and landing, explains how to heal and how to smite. Dean never asks about their past. 

Dean is a good student. He has so much more focus now, more concentration. His eyes are always trained on Castiel’s every movement and he nods at all the right moments. When Castiel holds his palm to his cheek at the end of the second day, the mind he senses is less in chaos, still cluttered but with more organisation. 

Although it is complete and total agony, their work is proving fruitful. 

A novel method of torture is how Castiel would describe this hell he is living in. This creature wearing the hunter’s skin was only an echo of his former self. He’d catch it, sometimes, a glimpse of what Dean was and _who_ he was. It would be a choice of word or the smallest of smiles, but somehow, Dean was still — just barely — in there. And Castiel’s heart ached for him. This new angel was needy and helpless, was fond of gentle touches and frequently lifted a hand to Castiel’s cheek to practice his sensing, and although the touch was pleasure it was also poison. Every time when he withdrew, his brow was furrowed, and Cas knew he was doing a poor job at hiding his heartbreak considering Dean could sense it, now. But it went unaddressed and for that, he was grateful. 

But Dean does eventually get curious. 

By that evening, he’s watching Castiel with hawk-like precision. Cas has become used to the intensity of his stare by now, and despite the agony in his heart he smiles at the new angel whose brow remains furrowed. Dean tilts his head, a gesture so familiar to Castiel that he almost does a double take, his own actions mirroring in the man he loves. And it is obvious that Dean wants to talk, now, so Castiel nods his permission. 

“All I ever feel is fear.” Dean says, voice quiet and almost ashamed. Castiel can understand that, remembers what it was like before he was overcome with emotion. Remembers how Dean was the one who encouraged him to feel, and how he was shunned by his brothers and sisters for the very same. So Castiel takes a deep breath, and nods again. 

“Angels are not supposed to have emotion.” He explains. 

And Dean looks more confused now than before. “But you do, Castiel.” He says softly. “There are a great many emotions inside of you. Whenever I touch you, I feel them.” 

Castiel sighs, and rubs his cheek with his fingers. More than anything, he craves to hear Dean call him Cas like he always would. “I am an anomaly.” He says, but Dean still looks like he has more to add. 

“You feel a great deal of pain.” Dean begins again, and even the acknowledgement makes Castiel’s heart twang because he prays that he won’t be questioned. He doesn’t think he can handle having to explain where the pain comes from, but if Dean looked, really looked into him, he’d be able to read it for himself. That would lead to a very awkward and confusing conversation, and he can’t scare the new angel away. He can probably feel Castiel’s longing, anyway, in the way Cas used to feel Dean’s. Dean opens his mouth again. “And you feel love.” 

Too tired to deny that, and knowing it will do more harm than good to lie, Cas nods. There is a long pause while Dean processes, but his eyes never leave Castiel’s, boring into his soul in search of the truth. 

“All I ever feel is fear.” Dean repeats. “Until I look at you.” He takes a deep breath even though he has no need to, and Cas realises he stopped breathing several minutes ago. “When I look at you, I feel something different. It is recognition, safety, and fondness. It is why I trusted you, not just because we share your grace.” 

“We are friends.” Castiel whispers, as if that will explain it. It won’t, and Dean shakes his head slightly, because he knows that’s not the answer he seeks. 

“Are we?” He probes, and Castiel’s breath catches because the pain is catching up with him, now. “Were we not more than that?” 

Cas can’t answer. He can’t hope to affirm or deny Dean’s suspicions while his eyes are brewing with tears that threaten to give him away, while his heart pounds helplessly in his chest and his mind clouds with an intense fog of pain. 

“Were you and I… _involved_ , Castiel?” 

At least now Castiel can shake his head, because that wasn’t strictly the truth so its denial isn’t a lie. But Dean takes a step closer to him as he struggles to hold in his pain and his tears, and as Dean’s palm cups his cheek to feel his agony, the new angel frowns harder, affected too by the strength of his emotion. There is no use denying anything when Dean can feel it. 

“We would have been.” Castiel finally admits. “Given time, we would have been. We both felt… we both wanted…” He can’t finish. 

“We were in love?” Dean asks, eyes soft with sympathy. Castiel can only nod. The new angel finally looks away, and he looks distraught, like he understands that his presence is hurting his only friend. “I can still feel that, Castiel. I still feel love for you. But… I am sorry that I am not him.” 

Cas chokes at the realisation that Dean still loves him, even though he is not who he once was. The tears find their way to his cheeks and he has no hope of controlling them now. 

“You are him.” Castiel insists, and Dean looks at him again. “You will be him again. He is in there, he is locked in your mind and there is too much else for you to process for you to let him out, but one day, you will be him again.” 

At that, Dean smiles, like he was scared of rejection and surprised to be accepted. It is more than the slight lifts at the corner of his mouth that Castiel has been privy to since his resurrection, and the way it lights up his eyes is more Dean than Cas could have hoped for. The new angel takes another step closer, removing the distance between them as his arms wrap around Castiel’s waist, and his head rests on the angel’s shoulder. It hurts. It hurts so goddamn much. And Castiel can’t catch himself before he’s planted a soft kiss against his temple. Rather than run or get mad, though, Dean keens into the touch, shifts his head so he can stare into his gaze again. He smiles brightly, again. 

Cas watches him, fondness, protectiveness, desire coursing through his veins. It is Dean that takes the next step. Dean’s hand reaches out to his cheek, and gently, he edges closer, giving Cas every opportunity to flee. But Cas can’t. He’s powerless and broken. He smiles back despite his tears, and dips his head, leaning to press a kiss against the new angel’s lips. Dean is soft and warm and grace sparks and alights between them, a burning fire of untold passion that they dare not embrace. Above them, the lightbulb pops, but Dean had no hope of controlling the surge that washed through him. Dean meets Cas with every movement, pressing firmly at his lips and humming with satisfaction. It brings back memories, times spent together, times hurt. All of it their life. All of it their story. And Cas watches it even though it is torture. 

After some time, Dean pulls back, and when he does his eyes are wide and Cas is worried that he’s blown it, that he’s pushed too hard too soon. But he tries to take a step back and is held firmly in place, so he looks around nervously instead, until Dean takes his cheek and keeps their eyes together once again. 

“You like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” He says, and Castiel’s heart skips with surprise. “And I gave you a mixtape.” 

More tears fall as Castiel nods, but Dean smiles brightly as he opens his mouth again. 

“Cas.” 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It is more hope than he has had since he first saw Dean’s wings. Just that one word, his nickname, restores so much more faith than anything else could have. He chokes, because he knows, now, that his Dean will come back to him, that even though he may be altered he is still at his very core the same man he has fallen in love with. That this state of amnesia is temporary. Castiel nods again while Dean beams, his eyes focused internally as if racking his brains for any more memories. None are forthcoming, yet, but it doesn’t matter. Castiel has proof that this angel and his love are one and the same. 

“You like Western movies and cowboys.” Castiel whispers then, and Dean looks grateful for the information when his attention springs back to Cas. He wonders in vain if continuing will help to bring back further memories. “You drink too much whiskey, and you are my best friend.” 

Dean smiles at that. “Right now, you are my only friend.” He whispers, and Cas looks a little sad as he leans in to kiss him again, a softer, quicker kiss than before. 

“No, you have many friends, Dean, you just can’t remember them yet.” Cas says softly. “It will come back with time and patience.” 

Dean nods, deep in thought, his hands still firmly latched to Castiel’s waist. Cas pulls him closer, letting Dean’s cheek bury against his chest and settling his own chin atop Dean’s head, threading his hand through the short lengths of the hunter’s hair like he’d always wanted to, carding through it while Dean hums. He could hold him like this forever, he knows. He could stay by his side for the rest of eternity and call it a life well spent. 

But of course, there were other matters to attend to. 

The prayers were getting louder, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore them for much longer. He could hear Sam’s voice, begging, pleading, as he had done since they disappeared. But they were changing now, more desperate, more scared. He had to go back. _They_ had to go back, but he knew it could prove too much for Dean to be introduced to what he would see as new people while he was so vulnerable. What they needed was time alone, but the world needed something different of them. 

“Do you remember your brother at all?” Cas whispers, because this latest prayer was a shout, echoing through his eardrums and he simply had to start doing something about it. 

So Dean looks up, connects their eyes again with that intense stare they only share with each other, and Dean frowns. 

“I remember the man that was with me when I awoke.” Dean says, and Cas inhales, because he’d hoped — prayed himself — for more than this. “You told me he was my brother.” 

Castiel nods. “He is.” A pause, a deep breath. “Dean, he’s been calling for us, praying to me. He cares for you deeply, for both of us. He is unaware of what is happening and that we are safe. And there are… other matters… that we — that I — need to attend to.”

With suspicion in his eyes, Dean maintains their stare, lips pulling with his frown. “You want us to return?” 

“I need to return.” Castiel decides carefully on the words, chews his lip while he thinks. “I would prefer it if you would remain close to me. For my own selfish reasons as well as your safety.” 

“We will be safe, back there? It was not just my brother within those walls. There was something else, a strong, powerful being. I saw him, I saw its eyes, I just could not determine what he was.” Dean looks frightened again, and Cas strokes his cheek in reassurance. 

“I assure you, we will be safe. The boy you are talking about, his name is Jack. And he is a nephilim, a half-angel, half-human.” Cas explains. 

Dean’s eyes widen at that, as if it is innate knowledge that nephilim are beings forbidden by heaven, that the boy is an abomination. “We must go back to destroy him?” He asks. 

“No!” Cas hurries to correct himself, and the conviction of his tone makes Dean’s eyebrows rise up in surprise. “No. Jack, he is good. He is… I am his protector.” 

Again, Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and Cas sucks in a breath, realising he has to tread more carefully. He surges forwards instead, capturing Dean’s lips in a kiss that the new angel returns, if a little half-heartedly. 

“Which angel?” Dean asks, and Cas is unsure what he is asking, so he tilts his head in confusion. “Which angel has spawned the child?” 

With a deep breath, Castiel considers his options. He has no idea how to explain that Jack might, quite literally, be the son of the devil, but that he is still innately _good_. Particularly considering Dean is currently so tempted to destroy him. But the pause seems to be allowing Dean to think of his own accord, and when Castiel looks back up, Dean appears almost angry as well as hurt. 

“You are the child’s father?” Dean accuses. 

“No!” Cas hurries again, shaking his head and rubbing his eye with the ball of his hand. This is not going well. “Not biologically. Jack… he chose me as his protector. His father… his father is not considered to be a _good_ angel, but that does not mean Jack is inherently bad.” 

“It does not mean he will be good, either.” Dean retorts, but he’s still got his hands on Castiel’s waist, and Cas is reassured that he will eventually get through to him. 

“You need to meet him, to spend time with him, to see that he _is_ good.” Cas insists, and although Dean narrows his eyes, he reluctantly gives the slightest of nods. 

“Are you ready to go back?” Dean asks, and Cas can tell he is reluctant, knows that he is doing this solely to make Castiel happy, that given the choice he would prefer to stay here alone. Cas leans, grabbing his trench coat from the back of a chair before straightening up. But he shakes his head gently. 

“Not quite.” He whispers, and then leans in to steal another kiss from Dean’s willing lips. The hunter is smiling when he pulls back, and the sight warms Castiel’s heart. 

 

*

 

Their landing this time is better, if not perfect. Dean stumbles forward a few paces as his feet hit the ground at an angle, and Castiel catches him around the waist to steady him. Dean twists his neck to look at him and smiles, before glancing edgily around the room that was apparently his own. Cas follows suit, taking stock of the guns hanging behind the bed, of the empty beer cans in the trash, the unmade bed sheets. 

He strokes a hand through Dean’s hair, smiling broadly at the sight of this man whom he loves so much, and wishes again that they could be allowed time alone. Dean needs it, it isn’t _just_ a selfish want. 

But, time for that later, he hopes.

He kisses Dean once before pulling back, looking almost a little guilty as he explains that he needs to go and see to Sam and Jack, that perhaps it would be better, definitely kinder for Dean, if he remains here alone while he fills them in. He knows full well that their shock might be seen as some sort of threat, and he has to minimise any problems before they become just that. He can introduce them one at a time, then, rather than overwhelm the new angel and scare him off. 

Dean looks, as expected, rather put out, and he grumbles a little before resigning to the fact, sitting his ass down on the bed like a toddler mid-tantrum. It doesn’t help the feeling of guilt in Castiel’s stomach, but he chews his lip before wrenching open the door, and tearing off to find Sam and Jack on his own. 

They aren’t difficult to locate. As expected, they’re sat around the table in the war room, sitting close as they look at something on Sam’s laptop. As Castiel’s footsteps near them, they look up in unison, eyes widening in surprise and relief as they catch sight of the angel, and together they smile brightly. 

“Cas!” Sam is the first to speak, climbing hastily from his chair and taking the three steps towards the angel to wrap his arms tightly around his back in a bear hug. Castiel grins as he lets go, his arms turning then to the nephilim and snaking over his shoulder in relief that he is alright. 

Now that the initial shock is passing, Cas turns to address the questions in Sam’s eyes. 

“I came with Dean.” He explains gently. “He’s safe.” 

Sam breathes out a sigh of relief, rubbing his cheeks with his palms. 

“He’s safe, Sam… but…” Cas pauses, unsure how to continue. 

“But what?” 

“He’s… different.” 

“Different, how?” Sam wants to know, eyes narrow. Cas watches Jack with almost as much nervous energy, because he doesn’t want him to feel responsible for this change and yet he knows he will. 

“He wasn’t possessed, was he?” Jack asks carefully, and Cas becomes aware that he already knows about the angel inside Dean, that he saw his wings during their brief encounter. Cas shakes his head slowly, and Jack looks away, quiet and distracted. 

“Possessed by what?” Sam appears even more alarmed, now, and it’s obvious that Jack hasn’t shared what he saw. 

“Sam, Dean has come back to us as an angel.” Castiel tries to explain, and Sam’s jaw drops open. 

“What are you talking about?” The younger Winchester asks in complete disbelief. 

“I believe…” Cas sighs. “When Jack brought him back, I was trying to heal him. I believe that my grace somehow became a part of him. That is why he knows me, but only me. Dean is an angel. He has very few memories of who he was, but some have come back to him and I believe that more will, still. He is an angel in his own right. The first new angel in centuries.” 

When he’s finished, Sam still stares at him. It’s a lot to take in, he knows that. 

“How do we get him back?” 

Cas sighs, because he doesn’t think that’s necessarily their goal. He groans then though, at the first telltale shudder that ripples the floor, and while both Jack and Sam look up at him in panic, Castiel knows exactly what that means. 

Dean was never good at obeying orders. He shouldn’t be surprised that that hasn’t changed even now. 

Cas turns, swiftly walking back down the corridor from where he came, and he only has to make it a few feet down the hall before he spots the man he loves backed against the wall, arms folded protectively across his chest, shuddering with fear. He reaches his hands out, one cupping Dean’s cheek and the other sliding behind his head, and he pulls his body close, flush against his own, while Dean shakes from within his arms. Cas can sense their presence, knows that both Sam and Jack have followed and are only feet away from them, and he wishes they hadn’t, because it won’t help. 

He pulls back though, desperate to glimpse Dean’s eyes for an idea of how well he’ll handle this. Dean lets his eyes slowly open, entirely engulfed in bright blue with power he can’t get a hold on, but he clings to Cas, and Cas lets his grace reach out to wash through him, praying it will help him to calm. 

“You’re safe, Dean.” Cas whispers, and Dean nods, but his eyes never break their stare. 

After a few tense moments, Cas watches the power rescind within the man he loves, feels it return to dormancy, watches him swallow as he controls himself and steadies his mind, blocking out the voices and the fear. 

Now that he’s calm, Dean surges forward, pushing his face against Castiel’s neck as he clutches desperately at him, leaving wet kisses against skin that Cas is grateful Sam can’t see. This situation is already strange enough without having to explain why they are now romantically involved too. Cas smiles though, leaning his cheek into Dean’s temple as he lets out a slow breath, glancing Sam’s way as if in apology. 

Sam appears confused and scared, and Cas wishes he could do more to reassure him. He doesn’t like to think of the younger brother feeling so alone. 

Jack just watches them curiously, like he is unsure what to do or whether he is needed or wanted. He is perhaps more astute than Sam, maybe to do with his abilities to sense emotion, and the quirk in his eye shows Cas he knows more than he is letting on about Castiel’s relationship with Dean. _That_ is a conversation for another day. 

A few moments later, Dean lets himself be gently ushered back, and although there is still a deep seated fear within his gaze, he does, eventually, tear his eyes from Castiel’s to carefully watch the others. 

Sam smiles at him, even through his obvious distress, but Jack looks scared, like he’ll know how Dean will be thinking, like he is aware that he’s something of a mystery that other angels have wanted to destroy or use. Castiel’s hand squeezes Dean’s shoulder as his eyes narrow on the boy, but Dean huffs in a breath, and nods his acceptance of them both. When their eyes connect again, the message is clear. Dean is doing this for Cas, and for Cas alone. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on smut. But smut happens.

Their next few days pass slowly, much slower than the two they had spent alone, and probably because so much of the talking had already been done. The tense moments didn’t help, either. Dean had refused to stay confined to his room, which was, probably, the best thing he could have done. Dean has improved, that much is for certain. Cas even caught him shooting a curious smile in Sam’s direction following a particular comment earlier in the day. But he is still suspicious and edgy, and Cas spends the vast majority of his time hovering awkwardly nearby in case he is needed. And on more than one occasion he is. More than once the walls shake again as it becomes too much to handle, and on each of these occasions he lets Dean bury himself close and he holds him until he calms down. 

It is on the third day that Sam brings up the prisoners they have kept in the dungeon, and that he knows Dean is still healing, but they _need_ to start making a plan to take down Asmodeus while he’s weak. It might be the talk of the prisoners, or the mention of Asmodeus’s name, but something triggers Dean, and as his hands start to shake against the wood of the war room table, his eyes flare and the shaking starts up again. 

It’s different, though, this time. Dean is breathing out of habit, but the breaths become short and laboured and Castiel realises he’s descending in panic. He lurches behind him, wrapping an arm across his chest, but for once Dean is powerless to move, frozen to the spot, and Cas can feel energy pulsing out of him like a threat. Cas forces him to turn, makes the new angel meet his eyes, and with a hand on his cheek he senses the recollections that rush through him and figures out why this is affecting him so much. 

He’s remembering. 

Dean watches him with wide eyes, but they’re unseeing, captured instead by his memories as they crash out of a barrier he’d set to protect himself. He screams, then, clutching at his stomach as Cas replays Asmodeus’s knife plunging deep into his lower abdomen. There is no blood, now, but he’s felt the pain once again. 

Cas tries to bring him round, he sparks his grace in pulses in an attempt to distract him, pulls his head against his chest. He even plants a kiss on Dean’s temple that makes Sam’s eyebrow rise in surprise and confusion. But the walls are shaking harder, almost dangerously. A lightbulb bursts, and Dean is, for now, lost. 

So he does something he isn’t proud of. He concentrates his grace into a powerful ball and aims it into Dean’s mind, shutting it down with the collision. His arms are open ready as Dean slumps against him in slumber, and with the help of his two friends, they carry the new angel back to bed. 

 

*

 

The hunter wakes a while later, and Castiel is right by his side. He had persuaded a hesitant Sam that it would be better if they were alone. Dean shifts his head to the side, rolling on the feather pillow, and he meets Castiel’s welcoming smile with one of his own. Cas’s hand reaches out to him, cupping his cheek, extending his grace out in support and healing for when the memories come back, as he knows they will. 

Dean raises an eyebrow, though, and Cas can sense the peace within him, like he has come to terms with it in sleep. He smiles instead, but his hand remains in place, and Dean doesn’t complain, leaning into the touch instead. 

“I have more memories, now.” Dean whispers. “A few, anyway. Sam, he was in one. Jack is in another. This demon, Asmodeus. I remember that he killed me.” 

“He did.” Cas replies sadly, his thumb stroking Dean’s cheekbone. 

“I remember telling you I loved you.” Dean says, and Cas smiles. More of his old accent is coming back to him, and the way he speaks is changing. Dean is slowly emerging from within this angel. “You had to watch me die. I’m sorry for that.” 

“It was hardly your fault or your choice, Dean.”

“But it can’t have been easy.” 

“It wasn’t.” Cas agrees. 

“I do love you, Cas.” Dean whispers, and it’s this that makes Cas choke. Even though he knows it, even though he’s been shown it in the last few days with kisses and needy touches, hearing the words make it feel so real. Cas nods, trying not to cry. 

“I love you too.” He says, as he leans in and lets Dean meet him the rest of the way, pushing their lips together desperately as they strain to taste each other. Cas has been content with this since getting Dean back, but now there’s a passion in the new angel he hasn’t felt before, and when Dean lets his lips softly part, tongue lapping out to beg entrance, he cannot deny it. He gasps when Dean licks into him, and the hunter pulls himself close to Castiel’s side, so that Cas can feel every last bit of him, including the hardness between his legs. 

Dean groans then, the pressure against his groin driving him wild, so he ruts forward again, cock stroked by harsh denim and driving him mad. Castiel can’t help but encourage him, hands finding his ass and pulling it forward while Dean breathes heavily. He wants, and he wants badly. 

Cas rolls onto his side, aware now of the blood pooling low in his own body as desire courses through him, and he grinds down against Dean’s hips, the new angel inhaling quickly with anticipation and then with the pleasure, and rocks to meet Cas, finding a rhythm to suit them both. 

Their kiss becomes wet, sloppy, laboured, and Dean is barely choking in air. Cas comes crashing back to reality, though, with the realisation that the walls around them are quaking again, that Dean losing control might not be best placed, here. The last thing they need is Sam barging in to check things are alright. He pauses, holding Dean’s hips still even though his love looks desperately unhappy at being made to stop. 

“We can’t do this here.” He says quietly, and as they pause the room slowly settles back to stillness. 

He doesn’t have to explain any more. Before he knows it Dean has flown them back to the cabin they’d been occupying, and Cas pushes him against the couch as his hands reach clumsily for the hunter’s zipper and pull while Dean whines. He makes even more noise then, when his cock is pulled out and caressed by both the cool air and Castiel’s long fingers. Cas is just trying not to think too hard about the fact that Dean hasn’t worn underwear.

Cas pumps his hand tightly on Dean’s cock while the new angel writhes under him, bucking his hips up to meet the touch, letting curses flow from his mouth. He’s leaking filthily, and judging by his flushed cheeks and sweat covered forehead, it won’t be long until he explodes. Cas is more than happy to let him have this pleasure, as he knows that angels have a quick turnaround. They’d be ready to go again in minutes if it was what they wanted. 

So Cas continues to milk him, jacking him roughly in a quick rhythm that will send him over the edge in no time at all while Dean twitches and spasms and begs. The walls shake and the lights flicker, flashing sporadically as he nears his end. Dean opens his eyes moments before he comes, and Cas can sense a change in him that is more than just sexual as he rushes towards his release. But soon, they can hear the cracking of glass, and Dean gives in, crying out as his cock spurts a load over his stomach and Castiel’s hand, catching the hem of his t-shirt and leaving a white stain. 

But it isn’t over, yet. 

Determined, Dean reaches up, dragging Castiel’s ass closer as he sits upright, fumbling quickly with the buttons on his slacks and shifting the boxers out of the way so that he can take Castiel’s thick length between his lips. Cas groans, the wet heat torturously good against his flushed skin, and although it’s clear that Dean isn’t the most practiced at this, he bobs his head down Cas’s cock like he was born to. It’s filthy, dangerous and good, and Cas can’t help but push himself further down Dean’s throat. 

Dean laps at him with his tongue and brings his hand up to manage everything that doesn’t fit, moaning around his cock with obscene vibrations that Cas knows will bring him apart, and soon. He’s going to burst, too, to spill down Dean’s throat and have him swallow it all back. The thought is delicious, and he ruts forward again while Dean tightens his jaw around him. It’s glorious, and he wants more of it. 

It’s hovering now, at the edge of his vision, a blank expanse ready to envelope him. Dean rocks his head again, licking his length with his tongue, and he squeezes his lips together more as he sucks back up, and Cas is so fucking done. He groans as the first drops of come ooze out of him, before his orgasm smashes through him, making his back arch up as the rest of him pours into Dean, his obedient angel sucking him down and taking everything he had to give. 

When he’s done, he pulls back, sitting back down on his knees as he catches breath he doesn’t technically need. He smiles, and Dean’s beaming at him, although he can only see so much now in the darkness since the bulbs have all burst. 

“I told you I love you.” Dean smirks, and its a gesture so much like his old self that Cas can’t help but laugh. He’s so completely overcome by this man, it’s almost impossible. 

“And I told you I love you too.” Cas agrees, but Dean’s expression darkens a little, only slightly, and Cas furrows his brow in silent question. 

“I remember you, now.” Dean whispers after a tense moment, and Castiel’s heart jumps in his chest. “It hit me, part way through… that. I remember. Everything… from the barn, to the apocalypse. The leviathan, purgatory. The crypt, Naomi, the Mark, Amara. Lucifer. Your death. I have memories now of Sam and Jack too. It’s all centred around you, but they’re there now.” 

Cas watches him carefully, because while he’s relieved Dean is back the memories are far from fond. But despite that, Dean smiles. 

“I just hope I don’t have to have sex with Sammy to get back my memories of him.” He jokes, and Castiel laughs again. Dean’s definitely back if he’s using his brother’s nickname, too. 

“I wouldn’t allow it, anyway.” Cas grins, but his eyes soon soften. “I missed you.” 

Dean smiles brightly, leaning up to take Castiel’s lips again in a gentle kiss. “I’m just so grateful to be allowed to do that.” He admits. 

“You could have been doing it all along.” Cas smirks, at which Dean shrugs. Neither of them had been ready for this step until recently, and they both know that really. “But I’m glad I can, too.” He smiles, and a comfortable silence engulfs them for a few moments while reality catches up. “I would love to do this all night, but we have other things to attend to, really.” He says softly.

“Sam’s right.” Dean whispers then,  nodding as the light in his eyes recedes a little. “We have to take care of Asmodeus.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The Dean that greeted Sam when they flew back into the bunker was an entirely different being than the one that had left it. The new angel was so much more like the hunter Castiel had come to love than he was even a few hours ago, and it was such a relief, for Sam and Jack as well as for himself, to see Dean being himself again. 

As they landed, the hunter took gentle steps towards his taller brother, a coy smile on his lips as he lifted his arms around the younger man, the first embrace since Dean had died. Sam had clutched at him, relief written through his features, while Jack watched with suspicion and surprise. Castiel couldn’t stop beaming, and when Dean tried to explain that his memories were slowly coming back — he did avoid pointing out that it had taken blowing Castiel to remember him properly — Cas had to resist a strong urge to pull him into a hug and a deep kiss in front of them both. They’d tell them about their relationship in due course, but there was enough to deal with right now without complicating matters further. 

“Sammy.” Dean laughs, a quip on his tongue that he dare not let escape, an in-joke that from somewhere in the back of his mind he’s recalling. Even Castiel doesn’t know the ins and outs of it, but Sam’s smirking like he gets it. Dean’s got a beer in his hand, but Cas knows its one of habit, that he’d been too polite to turn down the beverage his brother had offered even despite it tasting of nothing but molecules to him now. “What happens in Dodge…” He trails off, and Cas knows there’s a story that he’s missing out on. But not for long, he’ll worm it out of Dean sooner or later. 

Sam scoffs, but he’s beaming, and Cas grins too, where he’s so damn relieved that Dean is making his way home from his clouded mind. 

There’s a long pause in conversation while the boys sip at their beers, but it’s Sam that speaks next. 

“I have to ask, what’s it like being an angel?” He questions, a genuine curiosity in his voice. Cas quirks up an eyebrow, because it seems to him like a strange question, one that the brothers have never thought to ask him even though he too has transitioned from angel to human and back again. But he watches Dean carefully all the same while the older brother swallows, and the bright blue in his eyes spark in interest. 

“Honestly? It’s terrifying.” Dean admits, and Cas squeezes his leg under the table in support. Whatever answer he’d expected, it hadn’t been that. “I mean, first off, all my memories got wiped, which was bad enough. But all I could hear were these voices… thousands of them. And I could just feel this raw power but I couldn’t control it. Not that I’m great at controlling it yet, but at least I can stop myself from wrecking the joint now.” 

Dean pauses, Sam’s eyes still trained expectantly on him until he continues. “If it wasn’t for Cas, if he hadn’t seen what was happening to me and helped when he had? I mean Jesus, I might have killed us all.” 

The stare that Dean bores into Castiel’s eyes then is more reminiscent of the angel he now is than the hunter he used to be, but Cas matches him with equal intensity. He’s so fucking in love, and in this moment, he doesn’t care who sees it. 

“Well thank God Cas was here.” Sam smiles, and the moment is broken, but the younger Winchester is eyeing the two with curiosity. It’s obvious he’s beginning to cotton on to how things have changed between them. Anyone could see it, surely? 

A little while later, Jack joins them, freshly cleaned up as the nephilim and the human start eating the dinner Sam has cooked. He’d had the foresight to offer this time, instead of just assuming, so both Dean and Castiel had been able to politely decline. Cas did enjoy watching Dean’s frown though, it was clear he was missing the taste of good food. And Cas would agree that it was a perk of humanity. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches just weren’t the same as an angel. 

After they’ve eaten, the talk gradually comes around to their game plan. Sam catches them up on the details they’ve missed over this last turbulent week, and Dean frowns as the younger brother explains Ketch’s involvement with Asmodeus. He goes on to discuss Jack’s power. It seems the nephilim has been training in his time away, and Cas has to admit, when he sees him throw the empty glass bottle with precision, stopping it from crashing into the wall with only millimetres to spare, he is impressed. 

“With two angels and a nephilim, surely we’re more than a fair match for him?” Sam questions, and Cas is nervous, but he can’t help but agree. If they can focus their power together, if Dean can keep control over himself, then surely they’ll outmatch the prince of hell. 

 

*

 

The blood of a hundred demons is splashed across his face, and he thinks that maybe he’s been struck somewhere too. There’s something of a pain in his rib, but he can’t quite get his grace to fix it. He was caught by one of Jack’s blows, and although he’s reassured the boy that it was far from his fault and no harm was done. His power is just a little weakened. 

Cas looks to his left, and Dean is stood, towering over the shell of Asmodeus’s vessel. His eyes are a bright blue, his gorgeous black wings held out proudly, and Cas wonders if he could _be_ more in love with him than in this moment. The three of them had triumphed spectacularly. It had mainly been Jack, of course, but Dean and Castiel’s combined efforts had slowed the demon down enough for the nephilim to hit him with a devastating blast that had ruptured his vessel and shattered the being inside into a thousand pieces. Sam takes a careful step forward, edging hesitantly into the room now that the immediate dangers have passed, and they share a look of triumph and glee. 

Dean beams then, his eyes solely on Castiel, and Cas can see his mind shaking itself of any hang ups as he takes the steps towards him, and throws his arms heavily over his shoulders, clutching him close. Cas can feel Sam watching them. He knows the younger brother is more astute, has probably figured out that their relationship is different now, but he still doesn’t want to take that step without Dean’s conscious approval. He doesn’t have to worry, though, because as he pulls back and smiles at the man he loves, Dean shoots him a knowing wink, threads a hand to the back of his neck, and kisses his deeply. A window shatters somewhere, and when they break apart Dean is blushing. Sam just rolls his eyes, and as he walks away, Cas swears he can hear him whispering _finally_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how crap this is, but it needed to come out and I was on a time budget! Hope you enjoyed even a little bit anyway!!


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